Princess of Glass by Jessica Day George Page B

beautiful new gown, she had other things to write about. Like asking if Galen knew of any spells that left a residue of soot.
    "And wait until you see the costume I picked for the masked ball," Marianne said as she and her mother left the room. "You have to come!"
    "We shall see," Poppy promised, giving her friend a small smile as she shut the door.
    Secretly Poppy knew that she would never go to the masked ball. Nothing could be more horrible than being surrounded by strange people garbed in even stranger masks, their hard eyes staring out from hideous, inhuman faces ...
    She shuddered, and hurried to the writing desk. Galen might know something, and if not, perhaps he could find out for her.
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    ***
    Preparations
    Ellen lounged in the enormous bathtub, giggling with pleasure. Made of glass blown in the shape of a flower, it was easily the size of a small pool, with a padded bench so the bather's head didn't sink below the surface. She leaned against the back of the tub, perfectly curved to fit her shoulders, and inhaled deeply the scent of roses and precious oils.
    She could feel all the dirt and degradation of servitude sliding away into the swirling water. It was glorious, and she never wanted it to end.
    Tonight was the night of the royal gala, and she was in her godmother's palace, preparing for her grand debut. She'd fabricated an errand, saying that Princess Poppy needed ribbons for her hair, to leave Seadown House. Then she snuck back in one of the side doors and ran to a guest room to build a fire and make her escape into her godmother's realm.
    A maidservant in green held out a towel the size of a bed sheet. Ellen stretched with languid grace and got out of the
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    bath. The maid wrapped her in the towel and helped Ellen lie on a padded table. The maid began to vigorously rub her charge with the towel, then with oils and lotions. The unguents smelled so heavenly that Ellen drifted away into a wondrous dream.
    In the dream she was dancing with a handsome prince on a cloud that smelled of primroses. The prince had dark hair and was so tall that the top of her head only came to the middle of his chest. Ellen frowned a little, and made the prince shorter and golden-haired, like Prince Christian. The maid rubbed her forehead to get rid of the frown lines, and once more the prince turned dark and imposingly tall. He reminded her of someone ...
    Ellens eyes snapped open, and another maid was hovering over her head. This one was combing out the girl's long dark hair with a golden comb, while the other was now busy smearing something that tingled over Ellen's feet. The maid moved on to a different lotion for Ellen's calves, but the girl's feet still tingled.
    "I don't believe I like that foot lotion," Ellen said, closing her eyes again.
    The maid didn't answer. But then, none of her godmother's servants ever spoke. It was odd, and a bit distressing, but they appeared to all be mute. However, even the eerie, silent servants could hardly detract from the glorious golden walls, the shining sapphire floors, the blown glass columns, and the rest of the ornaments of the Corley's palace.
    When a voice finally did answer her, Ellen jumped.
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    "That lotion is a special treatment for your feet," said her godmother. "So you can dance all night!"
    Her godmother laughed, and Ellen joined in.
    Draped in a shimmering silk dressing robe as light as gauze, Ellen followed her godmother into a room filled with gorgeous gowns. She had been there before; these rooms were hers whenever she visited her godmother. She had tried on many of the dresses, putting on one after another and admiring herself in the long mirrors. Silent seamstresses took her measurements and made sure that each bodice fitted as if had been pasted on, each skirt was just the right length, no sleeve was too binding or too loose.
    Ellen knew exactly which gown she wanted to wear this evening. It was exactly the sort of thing she had dreamed of these past horrible years